


His Favorite

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Julian can’t explain the raven’s strange behavior. Asra can.





	His Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a vague, generally happy post-canon.

The raven is usually skittish, but it hasn’t settled down once the whole time Asra and Julian have been out in the city. It hasn’t done much for Julian’s nerves. Slowing his long legs to keep pace with Asra’s ambling hasn’t, either. Everything they pass, whether a trinket at a stall or a plant growing in an alley, seems worthy of Asra’s attention. Julian doesn’t mind following him to whatever puts a spark in his eye, not at all, though he grips Asra’s hand whenever they’re in a crowd, and sometimes when they’re not.

Asra doesn’t have to wander off after the raven. It keeps so close that Julian almost draws his knife in false alarm. If Asra notices the bird walking beside his heel or lighting down on nearby windowsills, he doesn’t react. That is, until the raven flies right in front of Asra’s nose, and Asra releases Julian’s hand to hold up a finger. The raven lands on it, ruffling its feathers before settling.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Julian says. “Not without gloves. It, ah, bites.”

Asra doesn’t seem concerned. The raven nips at one of his curls, and he chuckles.

“Did you hear me, Asra? I’d be a discarded dart board by now if I weren’t covered--and, you know, invulnerable to injury.”

“I heard you.” Asra strokes the raven’s head, causing it to lean back against his finger with a little croak. “Do you really agitate him that much?”  
  
“What doesn’t? Well, other than you, apparently. It seems to like you better than it does me. Better than anyone I’ve seen it with, really.”

“Oh?” Mischief sparkles in Asra’s eye. “Would you say I’m his favorite?”

“I’d say it seems so. Maybe you should take it home, introduce it to that… that snake.”

“Faust has enough friends. You really don’t know anything about this raven?”

“I know it’s a neurotic little gremlin. Always searching for guards, even though I’m… Well, I’m probably not invited to brunch, but they’re not after me, not anymore.”

The raven squawks in apparent protest until Asra plants a kiss on its head that, for whatever reason, sends a flush all the way to Julian’s ears. “The raven’s always done that?”  
  
“Long as I’ve known it. I always wondered why. Maybe it had a nasty run-in with one.” A thought makes his lip curl. “You don’t… you don’t sense a curse on it, do you?”

Asra’s expression sours. “No, there’s no curse. It’s… Something else.”

“I don’t suppose you care to explain what?”

He seems conflicted, and Julian assumes he’ll refuse to explain. Asra shares a long look with the bird, his eyes glassy. Finally he nods at it.

“It’s not just magicians who have familiars, you know,” Asra says. “This raven isn’t a normal bird.  A human’s feelings and behavior have imprinted on him. He’s more perceptive, and he _should_ live longer.”

“Eh? Like that--like Faust? So, so whose familiar is he? Have they lost him?”

“Oh, Ilya.” The fondness in Asra’s exasperation doesn’t soothe Julian. “He’s yours.”

“In that case, I-- _m_ _ine_?” He gawks under Asra’s patient watch. “But I’m not--oh. You covered that. So, how does someone without magic have a familiar?”

“I can’t explain it well, but I sense the connection between you two. Your auras are the same. I doubt you can hear his voice, though.” The thought seems to make him sad. Many times Julian has caught Asra talking to Faust, but speaking to a snake just seemed like the sort of thing he would do.

“So Faust has a voice? I mean, you can hear her?”

“Oh, of course. She knows all the best secrets.” His satisfaction makes Julian swallow. No doubt he did something terribly mortifying while Faust was watching, likely several somethings. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem like the type of thing I should interfere with. I’m only really telling you because--well, look at him. He can’t be eating much.”

“Can’t find any garbage to scavenge, in this of all cities?”

“I’m serious, Ilya. Ravens’ll eat all kinds of things, so he probably just--”

“Forgets? Searching for guards keeps one busy.”

“--would rather starve.” Accusation darkens Asra’s eyes, and Julian is caught in it for a long, slack-jawed moment.

“I can understand the feeling,” Julian says.

“I know you don’t want to take care of yourself. But your familiar won’t do anything you won’t.”

“Oh, now I get it. You’re making this up to guilt trip me into eating my vegetables.”

A harder stare, this time enough to make Julian’s eyes slide to the ground. Beyond Asra’s feet, a dozen others pass, hopefully paying no attention to the pair--trio--of strangers.

“Er, my apologies,” Julian says, returning his gaze to the raven. _His_ raven. “I mean, I might not understand, but I’ve ah, always been fond of him. Don’t know how many times he’s saved my hide.”

“His name’s Malak,” Asra says with a smile. “He worries about you, so reassure him a little, okay?”

He holds up the raven, and Julian stoops to meet its eyes, unsettlingly intelligent for a bird. He swallows. “Hello, Mr. Malak. I’m, er, sorry to worry you.” He spreads unshackled arms out wide. One strikes a barrel, and he hisses. “I’m fine. Or rather, as you can see, I’m quite free.”

Malak flaps his wings, sudden and furious enough that even Asra recoils. Julian laughs. “Yes, see? Nobody’s clipped your little wings.” He becomes grim as he leans in again. “But I might, if you hurt Asra. I’d watch that beak if I were you.”

In response, Malak ducks forward to peck his nose. Julian snaps it back just in time. When Asra rubs Malak’s neck to mollify him, Julian’s spine seems to melt.

“He’s your familiar,” Asra says. “He won’t hurt anyone you don’t want him to.”

“I certainly don’t. Don’t want him to, that is. Er, hurt you.”

“I know.” After everything Julian has done, the simple way Asra says it makes his heart tighten.

He studies the skeletal structural of Malak’s ribcage, all feather and bones, wondering if he really looks that scrawny himself. “You know, this explains a lot. I never understood why he--why Malak bothered to look after me. It’s not as if I asked him to.”

The look Asra gives him could freeze fire. Julian claps and forces a wide grin reserved for ruffled feathers.

“So! I imagine all three of us could stand to eat a good meal. I know a place just down the road.”

“If it has food, count me in.” Asra redirects Malak onto his shoulder, where he perches like a silhouette of a watchman against Asra’s hair. Asra’s hand falls to be enveloped in Julian’s, never an easy fit, but Julian clings to it.

“Is he even going to follow us inside?” Though the Rowdy Raven never minded, Malak more or less earned the namesake with his warnings to its patrons.

“Of course,” Asra says. “I’m his favorite, after all.”

His knowing grin almost makes Julian fly away.


End file.
